


We'll Be Okay

by insufferableknowitall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hurt/Comfort, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Ron Weasley-centric, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 12:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21428185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insufferableknowitall/pseuds/insufferableknowitall
Summary: The night before breaking into the Ministry, Ron lays awake at Grimmauld Place, filled with worries about all the things that could go wrong.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	We'll Be Okay

Ron watched the clock tick in Regulus Black’s four-poster bed. Though it was late at night and he was growing deliriously tired, he couldn’t stop thinking about one thing: that their plan was absolutely and completely insane.

He couldn’t believe it had only been a few weeks since they first arrived at Grimmauld Place; once disheveled, tired, and frightened from the run in with the death eaters in Tottenham Square, now fully preparing to break into the Ministry of Magic and...steal a locket from Umrbdige, a woman who had once terrorized their school, without even knowing for certain that she still had it in her possession.

Crazy. It was crazy.

Ron laid back in the poster-bed, feet bouncing nervously on the mattress while listening to the sound of Harry’s soft snores, which had only began recently - a sign that Harry too had taken hours to fall asleep, that he too was dwelling on the insanity of the plan. His body felt heavy from the day - they’d been up all day discussing their plan of attack, and Kreacher had fed them a particularly delicious and filling meal before bed - but he couldn’t seem to get his mind to quiet. It was filled with worry.

Worry. Something he’d, unfortunately, had more experience with in the past week than he had in quite some time. His thoughts were constantly drifting away, worrying about his family, about Harry, about Hermione. He thought of Ginny, Luna, Neville, and all the others returning to Hogwarts and wondered what Hogwarts looked like without Dumbledore there to welcome them all to a new school year...he shivered at the thought of it. It seemed like something out of a nightmare; though, lately, their lives had begun to resemble a nightmare.

He tried his best to let the sleep overcome him, focusing on the feeling of the soup warming his stomach and attempting to count the number of Slytherin crests he could spot in Regulus’s room to lull him to sleep. Yet, the room remained unsettling, and his mind remained whirring. He couldn’t help but think of all the terrible things that had once happened in the house, possibly in the very room he was sleeping in. Grimmauld Place had always made him uncomfortable, with its hidden corner and relics from the darker moments of the Black family history.

Yet, he’d agreed to sleep in Regulus’s room willingly, as opposed to one of the more empty, less decorated rooms, mostly to keep an eye on Harry. After the first two night’s they’d spent sleeping in the drawing room, the three of them decided they needed proper beds, as well as some space away from one another - otherwise, they’d be at each other’s throats in no time. Harry had jumped on taking Sirius’s room, Hermione the room on the first floor where she and Ginny had stayed the summer before their fifth year, and Ron took Regulus’s Room, to Hermione’s pleading - “I don’t want Harry alone up there on the fourth floor,” she’d whispered to Ron, when Harry had ducked into the bathroom due to what they suspected was another scar-related headache. “His scar keeps hurting, I don’t believe a word he says about being okay, and I bet he’ll have those dreams...”

“Reckon I should camp outside his door, monitor his every move?”

“I’m serious.”

Ron grinned at her, but added, “I know. I’ll take Regulus’s room. Sure you’ll be okay down here by yourself?”

Hermione could handle herself, he knew she could - but as he lay alone in Regulus’s eerily empty room, hearing only the soft sound of Harry’s snores on the other side of the wall, he couldn’t help but worry that if somehow, someone managed to get into Grimmauld Place, Hermione was in the most danger. Yet, he knew he didn’t have to worry about that much longer - he wasn’t even sure that they’d be returning to Grimmauld Place after the escapade at the Ministry, if they even made it out alive. He didn’t know what was next, and neither did Harry, as the hunt for horcruxes was proving to be more aimless than he had hoped.

Giving up on sleep, he sat up and playfully levitated a quaffle from the ground of the room and bounced it in the air. A soft knock at the door startled him, making the bludger land with a thud as the sound pulled him out of his thoughts.

Quietly, he tiptoed out of bed and nudged the door open to find an incredibly worried looking Hermione (a sight he was, after six years of friendship, quite used to seeing) with a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders and a cup of tea in her hands.

“I can’t sleep,” she said, eyes wide and somewhat watery.

“Join the club,” Ron muttered, moving aside and pushing the door more open, inviting Hermione in. She tiptoed into the room, shaking her head at the quaffle, which was now rolling about the floor, and perched herself at the foot of the bed.

“Want some?” she asked, offering the cup to Ron, who shook his head.

“Nah,‘m good. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Eyeing her, Ron crawled back into bed, leaning against the headboard and watching as her legs bounced nervously up and down, the water from the tea nearly sloshing out and spilling onto the floor.

“You should really try to sleep,” he suggested, “Need your brain tomorrow.”

“I’ve been trying,” she snapped, not looking up at him, “I...I mean, it’s just...it’s stupid, isn’t it? Breaking into the ministry? How 

stupid are we?”

“We’ve done it before,” he said. While he struggled to calm his own worries, reassuring Hermione came naturally to him. “Fifth year.”

She snorted and shook her head. “Yes, and look how well that went.”

“We’ll be okay,” he continued, watching as she took a sip of tea and still refused to make eye contact, “I mean, we’ve thought this through. We spent all day planning, long as we get the hair from those ministry blokes, we’ll be okay. We’ve got this.”

She glanced up at him, finally, her brown eyes meeting his blue ones, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “You promise?”

With those two words, spoken so softly, she nearly melted his heart then and there. He nodded. “Yeah. I promise.” And in that moment, he’d never been so sure.

She gave him a small smile and glanced back down at her tea. “C’mere,” he said, scooting over and making room against the headboard, swallowing hard in response to the nervous feeling in his chest that cropped up everytime she got near enough to touch him.

She slid into the spot next to him, so close that the steam from her tea was warming his face. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “We’ll be okay,” he said again. Whether it was for his sake or hers, in that moment, with her leaning against him, he knew it was the truth.

Eventually, she fell asleep - the chamomile tea did it’s job, her body going slack against his as he took the cup from her hands and placed it on the table beside the bed. He didn’t dare move - he didn’t think it mattered too much how little sleep he got. He knew he could pull it together, get through the bleary-eyed exhaustion. It was her brain they needed, he told himself. And he couldn’t bear to wake her.


End file.
